A Thin Line Between
by Autumn L
Summary: G1. A medic is posed the question: After a battle, if you find a gravely injured member of the opposite faction, what would you do, what are your reasons for your decision, and what could be the consequences?


A/N: Written for the Allspark forum's Oct Fanfic Challenge, which was a question posed to medic-like characters: "After a battle, if you found a gravely injured member of the opposite faction, would you choose to help them? Reprogram them? Finish the job? And what would your reasons be for your decision?"

I had no idea what to title this, so I played off the title of the fic this could follow up, "A Fine Line Between", which explains Rattlelatch's relationship with Swindle, and can be found amongst my TF fics posted here.

* * *

**A Thin Line Between**

Rattlelatch followed in Ratchet's wake as the two crossed a sandy battlefield pock-marked by missile impacts and the smoking ruin of cargo detonated by the Decepticons. The green minibot was along for field repair training to complement his junior engineer status. He had worked on bots under supervision in the med bay before and this would be his second time in the field. The first had been only a minor altercation.

There had not been any casualties reported that they currently knew of, but several wounded had called in from the thick of the fight before the battle moved onward. The Autobots had been determined to chase the Decepticons out of the desert. "I see Sideswipe," Ratchet said quietly as they both transformed, then he pointed through some smoke to their left. "Keep searching in this direction and comm me if you find anyone else."

"Roger," Rattlelatch replied with a quick salute. He trudged on, veering slightly to the right so his scans would barely overlap with Ratchet's.

He had gone about fifty paces when he picked up a life sign between the dunes he was walking parallel to. He considered it safe to derail without comming Ratchet. Climbing up, he kept a look out in case another body registered anywhere. He peered down when he reached the top and although he saw the form of a mech, the angle of the sun and the shadows below kept him from identifying who. Waiting on the comm again, Rattlelatch slid down the side of the dune.

The fallen mech grabbed his foot as soon as he came near. A familiar, non-Autobot voice croaked, "Help out a bot, mate?"

Rattlelatch was pulling his foot away when large purple optics were lifted to see who the potential rescuer was. "Oh. It's you," Swindle wheezed out. "Guess I'm scrap then. Just one thing, old pal -- you're not still mad about the last time we met, are ya? Sorry about your foot. I see you recovered nicely."

"I'm sure you're as sorry as I am about your shoulder." Rattlelatch drew away, crossing his arms. "And I'm not your 'old pal'."

"Memories of the good ol' days fade fast, don't they?" Swindle pushed himself up on his arms, revealing a sparking wound in his chest. "I kinda miss those days. Back then, if I got in trouble, I didn't have the burden of wondering if my 'teammates' would come back for me. If you're ever asked to join a gestalt unit, _don't."_ His arms gave out and his face plowed into the sand. When he was able to lift his head again, he sighed. "Y'know, I always thought I would die surrounded by wealth. Instead, I'm stuck in this sandbox with the only other guy to survive everything our types went through back home."

"Do you want me to put you out of your misery?" Rattlelatch asked coldly.

Swindle chuckled. "If you were interested in doing it, you woulda done it already. What _are_ you interested in, 'Latch? Think I'll confess to some stashes left on Cybertron before I go into my last stasis lock? Or even thinkin' there's a little something hidden on this mudball?"

"I'm not interested in your weapons stash. I don't trade in tech anymore. I build and repair with legitimate supplies."

"A shame. You were always so good at using whatever you found. Don't you ever miss that? You know, when you didn't have to run around following orders, you were free to do what you wanted when you wanted?" When Rattlelatch didn't respond, Swindle pushed himself up again and shifted to lay on his back. Oil and fluid had soaked the sand underneath him and continued to dribble down the sides of his wound. "Ah, I tell ya, this hurts. I'd conserve energy by keeping still, but I know it's futile. Sorta like dredging up old memories. You don't remember the _really_ important ones until the moment dawns on you that those were the best."

Rattlelatch moved closer, analyzing the wound out of habit before he knelt at Swindle's side. "Who got you, anyway?"

"Does it matter? In these final moments, I forgive whoever did it. We all gotta do what we gotta do, and it was somebody's fate to shoot a giant hole in me today. 'Latch, seriously, I'm sorry about last time. I had to convince my buddies that I wasn't going soft. They had to see an Autobot go down. You did get out, though, right? C'mon, you know I still got a certain honor in me. It was the only way us types could survive before we got stuck between the factions."

Another minute passed where there was no reply. Swindle's arms fell loose and his optics dimmed. "It's gettin' dark, 'Latch. Just as well you don't shoot me while I'm down. I kinda prefer to have a kindred spirit by my side in my final moments. The other Combaticons wouldn't care -- well, obviously they don't care. They left me here. But you're still here, listening to me babble deliriously. You're a good mech, 'Latch. Don't ever...change..."

"Swindle...I can patch your internal wounds but I don't have anything to cover it with."

The purple optics brightened ever so slightly. "Take...one of my...arms if you gotta...for...parts. You're...a good mech...'Latch."

* * *

"Where have you been?" Ratchet demanded. "I thought you stepped on a mine or something." 

"I'm sorry, Ratchet. I got distracted doing salvage." Rattlelatch lowered his head as the senior medic glared down at him.

"You're lucky Hoist and First Aid were in the condition to come back out here. Tell me, Rattlelatch, do you _really_ want to be on call for the medical team?" Ratchet's anger subsided. "You've done good in just engineering. I can have you assigned solely to that department."

Rattlelatch shook his head. "No -- I mean, um, I _want_ to improve my medical skills, too. I just...have trouble leaving my instincts behind. I found this." He held up a data disk. "I found it with a couple others, mixed in with a bunch of fried chips and some human computer stuff. I thought some 'Con ditched it because it was useless, but then I accessed it. It has a list of Decepticon store houses and mapped areas for potential strikes. We might be able to use it to get the jump on them if we can prove it's genuine." He tucked the disk away. "Is there anything I can do..?"

"Help Hoist with Brawn. And _don't_ wander off this time."

"Yes, sir." Rattlelatch gave him an apologetic smile. He turned and walked through the sand to where Hoist stood over Brawn, lecturing him. The junior engineer hurried to his fellow minibot's side to distract Brawn from arguing so Hoist could continue working. Meanwhile, Rattlelatch was wondering at the tiny bit of guilt niggling at him, then forced it away along with something else Swindle had said to him.

"You know you're still neutral in your spark, don't you? You really don't want to be involved any more than I do. But I'm shackled to the Combaticons, so I ain't got much choice. You at least can choose."

* * *

Swindle chuckled to himself as he limped away from the battlefield. His right arm was stripped and hung useless at his side, but he was alive to wheel and deal another day. He was certain he could get back into the Decepticon base without trouble.

"Good ol' 'Latch. He's either still gullible or has an ulterior motive. Good thing some of the sites on that disk are real. I think we could have quite an info racket going if he'd give up that loyalty streak. Those Autobots must be contagious or something." He stopped talking to himself and wheezed as he climbed a dune.

"Yeah...good thing I didn't double-cross him with the disk. I'm startin' to think...he purposely didn't...fix everything right. Or...put in something that'll...explode later. Guess I'll wait an'...see if he still upholds the honor...among liars and thieves."

**End**


End file.
